


Teachings

by DragonWannabe



Series: A Journey, in many parts [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Iroh will murder Ozai when the next opportunity arises, Ozai is a terrible parent, Self-Esteem Issues, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWannabe/pseuds/DragonWannabe
Summary: Iroh’s perspective of Zuko’s first firebending lesson post Agni Kai.  A companion to “Lesson”
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: A Journey, in many parts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806850
Comments: 20
Kudos: 586





	Teachings

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own any characters, etc. If you’re viewing this on a paid site you’re missing out.
> 
> I don’t know what I thought this one would be significantly shorter than the other. Nothing can brood like a Fire Nation Royal.

Iroh couldn’t believe how well everything was going. Zuko had insisted that he was ready to restart his bending training, despite the fact that Iroh knew each time Zuko went past a torch he stiffened and ran past it as fast as possible. Iroh didn’t want to damper his nephew’s spirit by outright forbidding it, but he was loath to frighten him more than he already was.

He had suggested working on breathing exercises over breakfast and despite the sullen attitude with which Zuko started the task, half the day later Iroh was nothing if not impressed with his persistence. Even now, knowing the importance of breathing to fire bending, he would be hard pressed to practicing breathing for more than an hour a day. If 13 year old Iroh had been asked to complete this task, he would not have been so willing. 

Sitting next to Zuko for so long had caused his joints to stiffen up, and as Agni’s rays disappeared from the window, Iroh grimaced at the discomfort. The flame flickered again on the exhale, like it had done all morning. For a first attempt after being so brutally maimed by fire, Zuko’s breathing was more than adequate. Even if he wasn’t breathing as deeply as he ought to be doing, he was consistent in his breathing. If his eyes were closed, the flame grew and shrank steadier, but when Zuko opened his eyes to watch the progress, it would resume flickering. 

Zuko was clearly becoming fatigued after keeping his focus for so long. His flame, which had been steady, if not as deep as it could be, started jumping erratically. 

Iroh could feel his stomach eat away at itself. In his old age he had gotten used to snacking more throughout the day and drinking tea more often than once every six hours. He sighed. Perhaps he should have ended this lesson on a good note some time ago. As he looked at Zuko, he saw his fists clenched before deliberately relaxing themselves. Yes, it was time for this lesson to be over. 

Iroh stood, and busied himself with the teapot he had brought in at the start of the session. The water inside it had to be heated oh so carefully and the flame from Iroh’s hand was a gradual change to the water inside. It wouldn’t do to burn the leaves he had acquired. Zuko snuffed out the candle in a fit of pique, clearly recognizing that the lesson was over. 

The anger in his nephew was something to behold. Iroh was certain that some of it was directed at himself for asking the boy to breath for over half a day. From what he had seen in the palace, Zuko was an accomplished bender for his age. His form tended to be more timid than it could have been, but he was progressing adequately. If he didn’t have Azula to compare himself to, Iroh was certain that Zuko’s confidence would be unshakeable. As the Crown Prince he had limited contact with others his age, and was instructed one on one during his lessons. He wouldn’t see how other boys were four or five katas behind him at all times. 

Perhaps some of his anger was at his father, but the few times Ozai had been mentioned since leaving the Caldera, Zuko had been quick to defend him. Ozai and he differed in their parenting styles, but it was hard to deny that Zuko was an accomplished young man. 

The tea had steeped long enough and Iroh poured a cup for himself and one for his nephew. He picked up both cups and turned to the boy still in a mediation pose on the ground. He held out the tea cup before realizing that Zuko’s eyes were closed. 

“Prince Zuko, open your eyes” Some tea would do the boy wonders in soothing his anger. Zuko immediately opened his unbandaged eye and looked at his uncle with what was a barely concealed glare. Iroh shook the tea cup, careful to not slosh any of the liquid inside, with a smile on his face. Perhaps Zuko would find the lighter mood contagious. Zuko reached out and grabbed the cup before immediately cradling it in his lap. 

“Nephew, please, drink some tea. You have been breathing well for more than half the day.” Lu Ten had always reacted well to compliments and Iroh was certain Zuko would not be so different. When Zuko drank his first sip of the tea, he made a face and it took everything in Iroh not to laugh. He would make a tea drinker of his nephew by the time he left. 

“Uncle, I don’t think that could be considered ‘well’ by any stretch.” Zuko grumbled. Trust the boy to only focus on the flaws, instead of the fact that it had been two months since he had any official bending practice, coupled with the damage Ozai had wrought. 

“You have not had breathing practice in well over 2 months! After such a long pause, the fact that you kept at it for over half the day is something admirable indeed.” Iroh smiled, thinking of how he would have reacted to such an assignment. “Now, please have a cup of tea and then we can stretch our sore muscles and see the progress we’ve made today on our course.”

The Eastern Air Temple was the farthest from the Caldera, and Iroh had made the unilateral decision that that would be the first place they would visit. After the first six weeks of battling the infections, a longer journey so the young prince could heal would be necessary. 

Zuko tried another sip of his drink, a glower on his face. Iroh was not certain if it was his drink or that his nephew thought it was beneath him to spend so long doing the exercises meant for children who just discovered their first flame. 

Iroh hummed and took a sip of his drink. He had really chosen well at the last market they stopped at. The tea blend was exquisite. 

“Prince Zuko, I understand that you are frustrated with restarting your firebending training from the beginning, but all good houses must have good foundations.” Until Zuko was more sure of his breath, he would continue to be afraid of the fire that had burned him. Zuko bowed his head, clearly ignoring Iroh’s words. No matter. He would make a master of Zuko yet, starting from the beginning. 

After finishing his tea, Iroh stood and watched amused as Zuko downed what was left in his cup. After the staunch refusals to finish his tea in the palace, Iroh was surprised at the change. He gathered the teacups and placed them on the tray with the teapot. He walked towards the cabin door, and when Zuko didn’t make to follow him, he turned and made to grab Zuko’s shoulder, perhaps the invitation was not clear?

The tips of his fingers had barely grazed Zuko’s shoulder before Iroh cursed himself for the obvious mistake he made. Zuko still couldn’t see out of his bandaged eye, and Iroh should have known better than to approach him from that side. 

Zuko flinched from Iroh’s touch, scrambling from what could have passed for a relaxed mediation pose into what could only be described as a sprawl. Zuko’s hands attempted to grip the floor on either side of him and his legs were bent at the knee. He was looking at Iroh with such a fearful look in his eye, Iroh forgot to mind the tray he was holding. 

The crash of a tea cup resounded throughout the room.

Before Iroh could even curse himself for being so careless, Zuko was kneeling on the ground, grabbing sharp shards and babbling. 

“Uncle, Uncle, I am so sorry. Uncle, please forgive me. I meant no disrespect by pulling away from you.” Iroh could barely make out the panicked pleas of his nephew, so consumed with anger at his thrice damned brother. Iroh had thought it a miracle that Zuko hadn’t flinched at the flaming hand during the sham of an Agni Kai, but perhaps he had known how much worse it could be. 

He breathed deeply, small amounts of smoke escaping his nostrils. Such behavior was unbecoming in most situations and certainly had no place here, in front of a frightened boy who’s last memory of an angry firebender had permanently maimed him. He cut off the smoke immediately, and inhaled deeply, trying to make as little noise as possible. He raised the hand not holding the tray to collect the shards from his nephew. 

At the movement Zuko bowed his head, clearly attempting to look contrite and only really managing to look cowed. Iroh dropped his hand and thought about how to proceed. First and foremost he had to get those shards away from his nephew before he cut himself in his panic. Iroh could hear the shards hitting each other in Zuko’s shaking fist. 

Iroh cleared his expression, but his voice betrayed his disgust with Ozai. “Nephew, look at me.” Iroh knew that not seeing what was coming could only harm the boy in front of him. Zuko’s eye was remarkably wide, but entirely dry. He looked at Iroh’s face, but refused to make eye contact. What had his brother allowed to happen? “Prince Zuko, I am going to touch your hands and collect the pieces of the cup that you’ve gathered.” 

Iroh clearly telegraphed him movements, not wanting to frighten his nephew more than he inadvertently already had. Zuko’s fists were so tight, solidly preventing the pottery from hitting the ground again. Iroh had to pry Zuko’s small fingers from creating marks in his palm, and collected the shards, placing them on the tray next to the unbroken cup. 

He knelt; this was a conversation that would be best had on equal footing. Looming over the frightened child would do no good to anyone. 

“My dear boy, what do you think is going to happen to you?” Iroh asked softly. Iroh could guess, based on the prostrations he could see before him, but he had to know. 

“I know my meditation was not optimal today, and it is your right as my instructor and guardian to rectify any behavior that you see.” Zuko rushed, before taking a small pause, “I also know it’s the cowards way out to try and avoid that which one is due. I am so sorry, Uncle. I did not mean to ruin your cup.”

Iroh would be ill later that night when he thought about the implications of his nephew calling himself a coward for not wanting to be harmed. 

“Zuko...” Iroh breathed. “Nephew, I believe it is I who owes you an apology. I have clearly been remiss as your uncle to have missed the treatment that would have caused this behavior.” Iroh knew that he and Ozai had different parenting styles. He had thought that Ozai was just cold towards his children unless they had pleased him. Never would he have assumed that he had convinced a young child that his beatings were his own fault for not being enough. 

”Further, I should have recognized how uncomfortable you have been since we stopped meditating.” He had chalked up Zuko’s behavior as anger, but reflecting back to not even an hour before it was clear that his breathing was the result of fear. Even seeing Iroh heat the pot of tea would be cause for alarm. How could he have been so blind? 

Zuko shook his head and Iroh’s heart clenched. A rejection, but of what? Iroh? Iroh’s apology? 

“Prince Zuko, no one has the right to harm a child the way you have been harmed. Did your father know about this treatment?” Surely Ozai knew. If Iroh ever had the misfortune to see his brother again, he would strike him down where he stood. 

“Father gave explicit instructions to Sifu Sidzo about what was and was not allowed during my bending lessons. And my non bending instructors were the same way.” Zuko was still kneeling, clearly expecting a reprimand that wasn’t coming. If any of Lu Ten’s instructors had harmed him, Iroh would have struck them down or banished them without hesitation. To give permission that the Crown Prince and one’s own son be harmed for not performing well during lessons? That was something wholly unthinkable. Firelord Azulon would have executed anyone who dared lay a hand on Iroh or Ozai, and Fire Lady Ilah would not have been far behind. 

Zuko’s timid bending made horrible, sickly sense. How could a child be confident when each moment they feared retribution for making a mistake while learning? Iroh resolved to be a more patient bending instructor than he was even for Lu Ten, who’s brashness caused more than one lesson to end in frustration. 

“Did Ozai ever—“ Iroh cut himself off. What a fool’s question. Zuko’s face was still bandaged and would probably remain bandaged for another month yet. Such an incident could not have been the first time he laid hands on his son. That Zuko knew not to flinch even as Ozai burned half his face was a indication that Ozai had harmed him before. 

“Zuko, please listen to me.” Zuko nodded, but still wouldn’t look Iroh in the eyes. “Please know that the treatment from which you have suffered so greatly is not normal, nor is it expected. I do not wish for you to be afraid of me.” He tried time imbibe as much sincerity as he could into his words, knowing that they wouldn’t be believed. If Iroh was going to welcome banishment with his nephew, by the time he died Zuko would understand that he had not earned any cruelty such as this. 

“Uncle,” It was the first words Zuko had uttered in many minutes, silence reigning after Zuko’s admission that his father encouraged his treatment. “Uncle, I know that I am not the ideal son. I know being born in the winter is shameful, and my bending is weak. I am aware that I am not a skilled learner of anything. I know that this makes it difficult to teach me. I understand if you have to take matters into your own hands.” Iroh will kill Ozai for making his son believe that just by the day he was born he should be cowed. That his gifted nephew is lesser because he cannot match a prodigy of a sister. That every hand raised against him he had earned by not being _enough_. 

“Prince Zuko, you may not believe me now, but I will prove it to you. You need not fear that I will harm you for not understanding. It is despicable and dishonorable for your father to have allowed such actions and committed them himself.” Iroh spoke with such vehemence. The father in Iroh, the spirit that had died with Lu Ten re-emerged and iroh was all he could do to stop himself from squeezing his nephew. He raised a hand before asking, “Nephew, may I hug you? I understand should you wish to b—“ Zuko launched himself at his Uncle, interrupting what he had to say. Zuko clung to him like an oyster-clam, and Iroh could feel the tears streaming down his face. 

That this boy who had been so wronged was still so desperate for affection hurt, and Iroh would think later about how to heal the damage Ozai had left. He had until the end of his life to nourish the boy in his arms, sent on this fool errand for the Avatar. The Avatar was gone, but how Iroh wished he wasn’t to stop his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> This ending sucks less than the other one.
> 
> I can’t believe I’ve written over 5000 words of fanfic in less than two days when I haven’t done so for 5 years. Amazing.


End file.
